"I vill do vatever you want me to," said the man, simply, "I vish I could be led and vatched over as a little child."
Dennis saw his pathetic self-distrust, and it touched him deeply.
"As your friend," he said, with emphasis, "I will not advise you to do anything that I would not do myself."
So they arranged that Ernst should go to the store in the morning, and that Dennis should come three nights in the week for lessons.
All made a hearty supper save Mr. Bruder. He had reached that desperate stage when his diseased stomach craved drink only. But a strong cup of tea, and some bread that he washed down with it, heartened him a little, and it was evident that he felt better. The light of a faint hope was dawning in his face.
Dennis knew something of the physical as well as moral Struggle before the poor man, and knew that after all it was exceedingly problematical whether he could be saved. Before he went away he told Mrs. Bruder to make her husband some very strong coffee in the morning, and to let him drink it through the day. As for Bruder, he had resolved to die rather than touch another drop of liquor.
But how many poor victims of appetite have been haunted to the grave by such resolves—shattered and gone almost as soon as made!
After a long, earnest talk, in which much of the past was revealed on
both sides, Dennis drew a small Testament from is pocket and said:
"Mr. Bruder, I wish to direct your thoughts to a better Friend than
I am or can be. Will you let me read you something about Him?"
"Yes, and dank you. But choose someding strong—suited to me."
Dennis read something strong—the story of the Demoniac of Gadara, and left him "sitting at the feet of Jesus, clothed and in his right mind."